Flowers of the Wicked and the Dammed
by TheRealOGMai
Summary: He never wanted his daughters to pay for it. "You own this debt John, and you have nothing else to offer." Their father owned the King a concubine, a lady of the court who outshined all the rest. John owed King Herald Issac Mercer the right of Sarah Bellum's place in his bed. War, Concubines, and three deadly men staking claim on what isn't theirs. All pairings. Review please!
1. chapter 1

_New story because, it's summer. I am really going to try with this one. I've been reading and studying to make this one a bit better than the rest. Disclaimer: I own nothing. Enjoy and review(if you want). Thanks for reading!_

* * *

She didn't understand. None of the girls did. She could tell by the way Blossom squinted her eyes and the way that Buttercup let her head fall to the side just a bit in confusion. She did not know some of the words that the man in front of her father was saying.

"You own this debt John, and you have nothing else to offer."

 _Debt_...

Bubbles hadn't heard that word before. It was a harsh sounding word as the man spat it out like something distasteful.

He was an important looking man. His clothing looked nothing like the faded patchwork rags that she saw among the sea of bodies in the Underground. Looking down at her own clothing, she gingerly rang a finger down a seam she had sown back together a couple of days ago. The black thread was jumbled and the line was crooked.

' _I tried my best though'_

Lifting her head, she mused. In the Underground, even your best may not be enough. There were mothers on the street, craddling corpses against their chest. Her best wasn't enough to keep her child alive. There were store clerks being robbed at knife point each day. Never making and keeping enough to make it above ground, their best wasn't enough.

The Underground was an unforgiving place. Fifty was the magic number. Barely anyone lived past it. If one did, well they were lucky. Murder, disease, and pillaging ruled the way of life. There was no regulation, no order. It was Hell on Earth, and honestly some people craved it. Lunatics pulled prostitutes into alleys just to slice them up. Their bodies would be found not even an hour later, the alley painted a permanent red with blood fresh and old. Caked into cracks and lines of old walls that told story after story of the unlucky woman who should have never walked the dark streets alone. Organs and limbs missing, those women were beautifully horrid sights. Good money in the black market. Dirty, bloody good money. Children would steal crumbs of bread just to have something in their stomachs for the day.

The man dressed in fine materials and metal adornments spoke again.

"The King wants reparations. The Council cannot postpone this any longer. We've tried fighting it, but he makes threats of execution"

"Regins, there must be something, anything! I have my skills and machinery. I've done amazing research. If I have to, I will try for my position as Court Physician again."

The man, Regins it seemed, sighed lowly. It was then that the man looked...tired. Lines on his face became more prominent. His hands shook with conflict as he ran them through his salt and pepper hair. His age was showing whether he wanted it to or not. Maybe that's the Underground working it's toll on him, but maybe not. He couldn't have been here for more than a couple of hours.

"My boy, the king does not want you. He never wanted you. Our King wanted her and know she is gone. May she rest peacefully. Bitterness plagues his heart, and time is doing it no better."

Regins looked over to the three girls huddled in the cracked corner of the sorry excuse of a living room. It made up the whole house, and the only thing dividing the space up was a small stove. A "humble" kitchen. His dark eyes met each fondly. Pink, Green, and finally blue. Bubbles had an odd feeling overtake her as he said his next words.

"King HIM wants the girls."

She saw the way her father's chest rose and fell with slient sobs. He was struggling to keep afloat, working to stay sain in a place designed for the depressed and pitful.

"You can let me take them now, or wait for the King's Guards to collect them tomorrow. The journey won't be pleasent for the girls if you go with the latter."

At six years old, Bubbles experienced her life ending before it even truly started.

* * *

Every girl has dreamed of being with a Prince. At least once, in forgotten dreams buried in the childhood fantasies of chivalry, splendor, and mythical creatures.

She admits that she did. She had no shame in indulging in the idea that a beautiful and kind Prince would whisk her out of the Underground.

Bubbles realized that in some twisted show of "fate" her fantasies came true. Sadly. Only, there is no Prince. There is only a wicked King and his awful daughter. A Princess spoiled rotten.

"Bubbles! Snap out of it. Finish getting dressed."

Shaking her head tauntly, she did as she was told. The other girls around her were dressing as well, and she noted that Blossom was already finished while Buttercup took her sweet time. She wore a simple dress, nothing too extravagant. Pale in color and a little stretched, she still considered it better than the cheap rags she used to wear over fourteen years ago.

' _Why dress so nice for labor and humiliation anyways?'_ She could hear her sister Buttercup's complaint from the week before ring in her head.

"Line up girls! You know the drill!"

Hushed complaints and groaned followed.

Yes, they knew the drill. Line up for inspection, and then go do your chores. Finish said chores and then come back for prepping. Once you've painted your face, slapped on your jewelry, and changed your dress into something gaudy and ridiculous, go to the Courting hall. Be watched like a piece of premium meat and pray your not courted by the sleazest old fart in the building. Let the man touch you, and stroke his ego. Say your a Virgin even if your not. You don't have to please him, but entertain him. If likes you enough, he keeps you. Say your goodbyes and pack. Prepare yourself for either life as a wife or concubine.

Yes, they hated the drill. But anywhere is better than the Underground. Her and her sisters had been Ladies of the Court for four years, laborers for ten years prior. They could handle it.

"Let's take an extra long time to do our chores day."

She smiled at Buttercup and snickered at Blossom's hum of agreement.

At least they were still together, and at least their father's debt was cleared. No future Utoniums would have to give their freedom.

 _'Father...and his debt'_

One would think that John Utonium owned the King money. Vast sums of gold to fill a standard treasure cell. No. He owned the King a concubine, a lady of the court who outshined all the rest. John owed King Herald Issac Mercer the right of Sarah Bellum's place in his bed.

Despite being over twenty years her senior, the King was enthralled with the young woman. Though she could not be his wife, for he was already married to a pitful older duchess, he dreamed of having her in his sheets, warming his side with her body. He wouldn't mind if she carried his son. He would find a way to appoint the bastard child a his heir.

Bubbles sombered at the thought of their father. Disease got to him seven years ago, but she thinks it was a broken heart that truly killed him off. His wife was dead, and his were daughters taken to live as their mother once did. All three sisters believed he blamed himself, and knew that their kind father wouldn't make it. It pained Bubbles so much. She remembered how she cried for weeks; ugly tears that were only mirrored by her sisters. She could still feel their sting on her cheeks and the way they took her breath away. Choking on nothing but pitful contempt.

"Bubs, did Holly say if we needed to tend to war horses today? I heard that there is a new foal waiting for us. I would rather check it to make sure the mother is caring for it properly."

Bubbles moved to look at her pink eyed sister, careful slipping on her shoes as she did.

"No, but I'm sure we can make time."

Holly, grunted from her place six steps away. Listening into the conversation when she heard her name.

"Why do you even bother. She's a War Mare, if the foal is weak, she will either cry, kill it, or both. You have other things to do, and that's not your job."

Holly was a hardened woman. She had been a laborer under the King's services since the age of four. Her parents sold her and with full pockets, left to go who knows where. Holly hated them for that. She waited for the day she was able to track them down. The brunette wasn't above murder, and Bubbles knew she would do it if she could. Her cold blue eyes spoke it freely to anyone that crossed her. Holly wasn't a concubine, but sometimes she wished she was, she would be able to taste freedom a little faster that way. Revenge would be a bit closer.

Bubbles idly thought that maybe Holly would like the Underground. She would probably enjoy the chaos and freedom, no matter how violently sick it all was. Holly would be a survivor.

"I know, but-"

"No buts Blossom. Do what has been assigned."

It was almost nightfall when the sisters finished was they were responsible for. Tired and sweaty, Bubbles held her breath in order to avoid the smell of her own skin. A quick bath was neccessary before she made her way to the Court. She waited for her turn, and hummed in the delight of feeling the cool water on her body. Lathering up the tiny piece of soap she was provided, she began to diligently scrub away the dirt of the day.

"Buttercup, do you know where I placed my pearls? I can't find them anywhere?

"No, check in the space between your bed and the wall. It could have fallen."

"I don't see i-"

"Found it! Here you go Bloss."

"Thank you."

"Time to enter Hell."

"Shh! Butters, mistress will hear you!"

* * *

 _Thank you for reading this chapter! Tell me what you think. This story will be a little more mature, but not much. Mature language and a bit of gore, but that's all._ _See you tomorrow!_


	2. The Damned

_Chapter 2 is going to be the real start of the story, as I really just wanted to set foundations and a bit of background. Details about the girls, John, Herald (HIM), and others will come to light soon. Thanks for the review xbriannova! Enjoy Chapter 2_ everyone!

* * *

John lived a dangerous life in the Underground, and wished to forget the time were it was killed or be killed.

He tried to forget the blood that was so very warm as it licked at his hands, arms, and right below his eyes. He remembered the way the man struggled to rip John's hands from his throat. The man couldn't believe that he was about to die by the hands of a child. A child with no emotion or apparent remorse. John's eyes were stotic, cold, unreadable. Clawing at young skin and grabbing anything he could, John admitted that this man showed a true will to live. Why? What was there to live for? The man had money and women, he had connections to the Elite, but did any of that matter? None of it protected him from the hit on him. Someone wanted him dead, and John was going to make sure of it.

The first man he'd ever killed, one countless faces that haunted him with restless nights and decades later; an unwavering guilt. The Utonium boy was just another poor soul of the wasteland. Just another killer for hire, just another angry twelve year old.

* * *

He was good at it. Extremely good at it. He would even go as far as saying that his skill was feared by the few people that recognized the shadow of a young man. Killing was natural for him, it was instinctual.

"Do you like killing, little one?"

John snapped his head to the side, zeroing in on the voice of a man he saw once in passing.

"Do you enjoy watching the people you kill struggle? It seems so. Your not the cleanest killer, but then again, murder is usually messy."

John let his eyes roll, he was hardly "little". At fifteen, he didn't take too kindly to being called anything he wasn't. Killer? Yes. Demon, Monster, Angel of Death? Yes, Yes...Yes? That last one was something a sorry older man called him with a small smile and a deep chuckle right before John's blade connected with his neck.

"Councilman Regins. What brings you to this tavern? The wonderful ambience? The women? Ah! Could it be you have someone you need disposing of?"

"I'm here for you, John. I know you have interests other than killing, so why kill?"

Taking a seat next to the young man, he placed his large hand on John's shoulder. Leaning in, he whispered.

"I've been watching you son, I know you steal the piss poor medical books in Merchant Square. I've seen you treating the children's wounds, and overseeing the deliveries of this season's children."

The thought of being watched and not noticing made John oddly upset. Violated was a good way to describe it.

"Fuck off! You know nothing!" He hissed bitterly.

Pushing the man's hand off his shoulder and standing up abruptly, he made his way to the tavern doors.

"I'll teach you John. I can get you out of here, out of this forsaken place of death and loneliness."

John would laugh at his own misery decades later when he realized he left the underground just to be thrown back in. The man who saved him, would be the same man to take his daughters away from him. He would find companionship and love only to lose it. He decided Karma was a witch he would greet at the gates of Hell.

* * *

What made a good King? A good King loved all of his people and they lived him right back. A good King ruled diligently and fairly. A good King didn't throw an entire section of his Kingdom into an rat infested shithole just because they opposed his forceable take over of their land. By popular opinion, HIM was a horrible king. He was feared, more than loved.

King Herald on the other hand believed he was a reasonable person, and a fair King. He knew he wasn't the most...compassionate at times, but who truly was? An eye for an eye; A life for a life. That was something he lived off of.

"Father, do the Ladies of the Court have to attend this affair? I thought it was _my_ ball. _Im_ the one looking for a proper husband. Every suitable man would be distracted by their awful presence."

His daughter was quite frankly...unamusing. The young woman was over twenty-three and couldn't even get one man to commit. Even with the thoughts of becoming King, they strayed away.

An eye for an eye, I give you the title of King, you take the unappealing daughter. Fair right.

"Princess, it's been decided." He cooed. Mockingly loving as he was with his wife. The poor broad.

Leaning back in his chair, he mused. His daughter looked exactly like her useless mother. Frizzy copper red hair, small beady little brown eyes, and a face full of freckles, she had none of his looks. If she did, she would look more like her bastard sister, Seduca Lorrett. A young woman born from one of his favorite concubines. With her wavy Jet black hair, and hazel-green eyes, she took after him in the best of ways.

Seduca was already married to a Duke. A Duke! Not a common man or member if the Royal Court, but a Duke of a partnering land! He fell in love with her smile, but HIM believed she bribed the man with her body as any good concubine would. She took her mother with her, and despite his efforts to bring his concubine back, he could do nothing as she was proprotected under foreign law. That would be the second time such a thing happened.

"Father! At least put a different dress code in place! They dress like slu-" She was cut of by an attendant.

"My King, arrangements are going as planned. There is a young man here to see you. He says that you two made contact already."

HIM swallowed the rising anger in his stomach.

He couldn't allow his true colors to show now, he would deal with the brat later.

"Allow him in." Turning to look pointedly at his daughter, he hissed, "Leave. We will discuss this no longer. Out of my sight."

She walked out as if fire was at her heels, and as she left, the man he had been waiting for stepped into the room.

The air turned hot, it was as if there was a flame in front of him.

"Your Highness. It is nice to finally meet you." The man drawled. It was smooth and dripping in charisma. There was something in the young man's eyes that HIM truly couldn't not understand. It wasn't foriegn, but it wasn't truly familiar.

"Brick Kingsely, War strategist at your service."

* * *

Buttercup sighed. This ball thing was something she would rather sit out, it's not as if life would change for her and her sisters. They were permanent members of the Ladies Court. Until they lost their appeal or died, they would be property of the King. They were show pieces. Bodies to be ogled and touched, but never to be set free.

"Oh how I wish to leave this place! To really leave. See things and places beyond these Castle grounds and even further to new lands. It would be such the adventure, wouldn't it?" She thought out loud.

Turning to face her sisters as they dressed for the night, she saw the far off look in the youngest sister's eyes. She imagined the girl was thinking of "everything being nice". It was just like her to do so.

Buttercup craved freedom and action as much as her sisters did, but she believed she could handle a bit more than they could. She wasn't afraid of getting a little dirty.

"It would, but we all know it won't happen."

"Don't be so pessimistic Bloss. You never know."

"Yeah Blossom!" Bubble chirped. It seems she was finally out of her reverie.

"Just don't get your hopes up, turn around Bubbles let me help you with your dress..."

It wasn't even an hour later when Buttercup found herself among shimmering lights and low laughter. The dress she wore was one she wore often and liked very much as it covered as much skin as possible. It was a pale green and gray that poofed out at her hips and ruffled towards the end. It hand long sleeves that elongated towards the end. Nothing too extravagant, wouldn't want to outshine the Princess.

Bubbles and Blossom wore dresses that were similar with the only real difference being the color.

Buttercup studied each face that passed. Keeping herself grounded, and not maintaining direct eye contact with anyone; she stood with her sisters off to the side. Keeping to themselves was the best option right now, and the green eyed girl honestly loathed the idea of dancing with some grimy man with a fake smile and wandering hands.

Don't get her wrong. Not all of these men seemed horrible, but she wouldn't take any chances. Romance wasn't her cup of tea, and even if it was, she wouldn't be allowed to truly Court a man. Again, her and her sisters were for show.

A shadow to her left caught her attention, and two more followed. Whispers of Ladies and men alike invaded her ears.

 _'What's the point of whispering if you were going to be so loud?'_

"I heard that man over there is the King's new war advisor."

"Him? But he is so young."

"Quite handsome if you ask me."

"Who are the other two?"

" Not sure. His attendants? Guards? The green eyed one looks dangerous."

"I like them dangerous. You think he'll invite me to his room tonight?"

She could hear every word, and by the narrowing of his eyes, the ink haired green eyed man could too.

The striking blond next to him nudged his arm slightly. He spoke lowly to the man. So lowly, Buttercup almost couldn't hear, and that was saying alot. The woman heard everything and anything. It was a skill she was glad to possess.

"Calm yourself Butch. No need to get upset. Live a little tonight. Before it all turns to shit and chaos."

Buttercup wondered what the man meant by that. She turned her head away from the trio in an attempt to seem as if she was uninterested.

"Not that easy when they look at you like wolves after meat. That one over there want to get in my pants. And that one is definitely suspicious of us. Pretty sure she can hear everything I'm saying."

Did he read her mind? Shifting to place majority of her weight on her other leg, she fought the urge to look at him again.

"Butters, you ok?"

Bloosom looked at her sister with concern in her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm good." She looked her sister in her eyes and then looked down, silently guiding her sister's eyes to her hands. Bubbles was watching too as Buttercup made signs with her fingers and hands slowly. A thing they learned in the underground and something their father made sure they were well versed in give if they need to communicate without their voices for some reason.

As discreetly as possible, she signed to her sisters.

 _"Those guys are making me feel...nervous. They know something that the rest of us don't. The one with green eyes, Butch. He knows I can hear him. He noticed, no one ever notices."_

Blossom made a face and carefully signed back.

 _"That's odd, but don't worry too much Buttercup. What ever happens won't involve us."_

Bubbles nodded in agreement and took a quick glance at the three men they were taking about.

 _"Hopefully it won't."_ She signed.

They didn't think anyone would be able to decifer their code. As far as they knew, there was no one from the Underground near and even if there was, many didn't learn said code. Their father told them it was something used by trained killers and guards of the shady organizations that ruled the cesspool. He admitted he used to use it frequently during his youth, and yes. The girls knew their father's past. They knew it all, and truly couldn't bring themselves to dislike their father for it. He never killed again after he met their mother, she made him promise not to. On her deathbed, she asked John to ensure that their daughters never have to kill as long as he was alive.

* * *

 _Well they don't look like killers. They don't look like informants either._

"Yeah, I see them too." Bricks voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

Boomer let his head lean back in a lazy sort of way and smiled.

"They might be useful though. They're not killers, but the know the code. We can get them to cooperate, tell us what they know." The blue eyed boy grinned. Things were becoming more exciting by the minute.

"Yeah, I think so too Boomer." Turning to look that the three girls once more, he spoke his second sentence just a bit louder.

"You'll cooperate with us right, Buttercup was it?"

Said woman went cold.

 _'How does he know my name. No one said it out loud...'_

"Don't worry too much. We wont involve you three too much." The way the red eyed man mirrored her sisters silent words shocked all three girls.

 _'They know the code!'_

The look in the three men's eyes was something Buttercup remembered from a time she'd rather forget. Those were eyes of well versed killers.

Butch watched as the three stood their ground and the pink eyed sister signed slowly and methodically. Fluent in the language.

" _Who did you come here to kill?"_

Boomer let a small snicker escape and signed back.

" _Kill? No. Slaughter is more appropriate, but not right now. We have other things in motion."_

Brick continued after.

 _"You three are from the Underground as well. You should know what we are here for."_

Bubbles gave uncharacteristic eye roll.

" _We haven't been down there in fourteen years, so no. We don't."_

Boomer met her gaze and moved to meet her. No longer signing, he made the short journey over.

She couldn't help but step back as he got closer. Leaning in close, he answered her.

"Revolution my dear. A day of reckoning for our beloved king."

War started with the underground and will end with it.


	3. The Light Shines

Chapter 3 of this story. I will try to update my other two stories soon. I haven't given up on them,especially Blood's Generation. Thank you for your patience with that! Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Kill, no. Slaughter. Slaughter the King? Not possible. Nowhere near possible.

If there ever was an idea that ever optimistic Bubbles would scoff at immediately, this would be it. The only thing holding her back was the look on the man's face.

His ocean blue eyes spoke of terror and nightmarish pain. She could see that they were once broken, much like her father's the day her and her sisters were taken from that shack of a home in the alleyway she used to play in.

The cracked streets and bloodied walls spoke of pain measurable by the sheer _feeling_ this man exuded. It was a heavy feeling that rippling from his skin, and almost suffocating as he pressed closer to her.

"A day of reckoning for that man." She repeated his words without the mock fondness. Rolling the words around in her head, she decided that, yes. These men, were absolutely crazy.

King HIM had guards, secretive shadows watching everything, executioners skilled in the vast art of manipulation and death dealing. Only a lunatic would set their sights on the bloody head of the King. The image is almost...funny.

Buttercup of course heard everything and with a swift twist of her body, she separated the two.

"I love anarchy and bloodshed as the next person." Buttercup looked pointedly at the blue eyed devil as she drawled sarcastically.

"But we are not ones you need to or should tell this information to. We are in no way helpful to you three. We barely see or know the King despite being three of his appointed Concubines." Buttercup finished. Pulling Bubbles a little closer as she did, she looked at Blossom in silent acknowledgment.

The pink eyed sister nodded and turned fully to the red headed man, assuming him to be the leader of the group. She gave a practiced dismissal to the three.

"With that being said, we bid you good day and farewell. May your endeavors, whatever they may be, be fruitful." Pivoting, she nodded once again to her sisters and they made move to leave.

Not even a foot away, the Red haired man's voice calls out to them above the noise of laughing men and hushed comments of concubines.

"Do you like it here? Do you like being beautiful paintings on a dusty wall? Your King made agreements to never touch you three, but do you honestly believe he won't? I heard he owns you three for damn near life. Shamefully tragic."

Shamefully tragic? He thought _this_ was shamefully tragic?

He didn't know of the sorry past their father had, his sacrifices, his pain, his loneliness. His death. _That_ was shamefully tragic, not the life her and her sister lived in unfair atonement. His words seemed to light a fire in the eldest sister's heart.

Whipping around almost immediately after his last words escaped his lips, she walked back with fervor. Light pink eyed turned dark and her shiny red hair flung with every harsh step.

"You do not call _this_ shameful or tragic. You know nothing of this, of _us._ What's tragic is living in the Underground your entire life with no way or want to get out, what's shameful is whoring around for a lack of anything better to do!" She was starting to hard a difficult time controlling her voice. It wavered, cracked, and gravelled against spitting words and _damn_ it felt good. So good, that she felt like topping it all off with a firm slap to his face.

But, she digressed. People surrounded her, and Blossom knew she was being watched. The smirk on his face made her regret her astounding self control.

Beick moved just a bit closer. Close enough that Blossom could feel his breath ghost along the side of her face.

"You three are flowers of the wicked. Beautiful, and bloomed. A great accessory for the damned."

With his final words, he pulled back. Looking off into the near distance, a crack of a smile etched on his face. Turning to face the two men that flanked him, he signaled their departure.

In less than two seconds, they were lost in the crowd. Gone. Almost as if they were never there to begin with.

"That was...unsettling. They were so confident. How do they trust us to say nothing to the King about this?" Bubbles voice rang lowly. Tucking her hair behind an ear, and ringing her fingers together in a show of nervousness.

Buttercup answered with a heavy scoff. Folding her arms right under her bosom, she narrowed her eyes. "They know we dislike HIM probably just as much as they do. Perhaps even more."

Buttercup knew "dislike" was putting their feelings very lightly. Due to that wretched king, her family was forced to flee to the underground. Their mother, was already frail. She had just given birth to three children. Her body wasn't able to take the piss poor conditions of the underground.

They had more than enough money saved to live decently among the middle class but HIM had all of their assets and anything of value seized. Just because he could, Buttercup assumed.

Nodding in agreement, Blossom turned as a flash of red caught her eye. Green and blue followed, but they disappeared as quickly as they did the first time.

* * *

It had been more than a month since princess' ball. She was still without husband, but what else was new? The wretched girl was grasping at straws. With the King nearing his seventies, there wasn't much time left. A political marriage was the only option now, but it didn't seem as if there was going to be time. War was coming, and it was close to home.

It happened suddenly. The explosion coming from the left wing of HIM's palace. It shook the concubine living quarters and woke everyone up in a panic. Buttercup reached for her sisters and helped gather everyone to a safe place. Buttercup truly didn't know what was safe or not though.

They were being attacked, and for what Buttercup could gather, it came from the inside. Someone deliberately set off an explosion near their living quarters.

"Single file ladies! No pushing!"

She could hear Holly yelling over the scared mumbling of women and the crackling of stone. The thumping of marching feet was heard as it got closer. Five or so guards showed up, and surveyed the area.

One called out and Buttercup swore he was staring right at her.

"Are you all alright? No one damaged?"

A chorus of "yes" and mumbles answered him.

That was the last thing she remembered as the world turned dark.

* * *

Wherever she was, it was warm. Very warm. The crackling of a fire was the only explanation to come to mind before she was able to open her eyes. Her eyelids were like lead and her head was a throbbing mess. Groaning lightly, she fought through the pain and lifted her body upwards. Darkness greeted her, but the only thing on her mind was-

"Where the hell are my sisters?!"

Well, she guessed Bubbles was alright

Reaching out and calling back, Buttercup found her youngest sister in the darkness.

"Woah, Bubbles. Language!"

Bubbles clicked her tongue and grumbled. She often turned into the worst person when in distress.

They found Blossom not too far away as she slowly made her way over to them. The sisters realized that they were in a room. An elaborate one at that.

Buttercup now took time to really look at her surroundings. The fireplace was where she woke up and the rest of the room looked like a study of some sort. Parlor chairs and books lined the walls.

"Let's try to find a door. We might still be in the left wing." Blossom whispered.

"I doubt it, Blossom. This room isn't gaudy enough. Very toned down, not as rich." Buttercup noted.

Bubbles nodded in agreement with Buttercup, but did start the search for a door. Feeling against the walls of the room, it was eventually found, and Bubbles sighed in contentment at the sight of light in the hallway in front of her.

Buttercup and Blossom followed closely behind as they roamed the halls of the unfamiliar building. These particular halls had no windows for the girls to see out of. If it did, then they would have been able to use they to see where the heck they were. Buttercup was right when she assumed that they were no longer in the Left Wing. Heck, Bubbles believes they were no where near the King's Palace.

Buttercup shot an arm out to stop her sisters from walking any further.

"Wait, I hear voices. Familiar voices."

Blossom hummed and asked her lowly," Any ahead on who?"

The green eyes of her sister turned steely as she replied.

"We're about to find out. Their coming in our direction. Too close to try to hide. Too late to avoid them"

She was right. It was in fact was too late as the faces of three men she truly didn't believe she would see again greeted her just a couple feet away.

The voice of the dark haired one called out first. The smirk on his face and the mischief in his eyes gave her an odd feeling. Fear? Excitement? Anger? She didn't know, but what she did know was that these three men kidnapped her and her sisters.

"The flowers are awake. Had a good nap Buttercup?" He drawled. His steps towards her were almost lazy in fashion, much different than how he carried himself at that stupid ball over a month ago.

"Tell us what is happening. Now." How was she not absolutely livid at the moment? Again, another thing she did not know. Maybe it was because she loathed being in that palace. She dreamed of escaping, not being forcibly removed after an earth-moving explosion, but she would take what she could get.

"We know everything about you three ladies, but you know little to nothing about us. Shall we do formal introductions, or would you rather keep the mystery? It's rather alluring isn't it?" Boomer laughed.

Bubbles noticed that he had a boyish innocence about him, despite those painful eyes of his. His mannerisms showed him to be rather carefree. She saw it in the way he would let his head hang back when he spoke sometimes, and in the way he spoke with aloof airiness. A really good cover for the cood killer she suspected him to be.

"Well it would be nice to know the names and possibly backgrounds of the men who kidnapped up and left us in a soul suckingly dark room with a dying light of a fire place." Blossom answered him with a clipped tone, obviously irritated and tired.

Brick stepped closer as he began the introductions.

"Brick Kingsely. Leader of the Grifters Corps. War strategist"

"Butch Jansor. Weapons Specialist. The tank of the group, really"

"Boomer Fegen. Master manipulator. Espionage. All that stuff."

"Also known as the Jojo brothers..." Buttercup's voice rang out in shock. She couldn't believe it.

Butch smiled at her revelation, honestly suprised at it. Only a few got to know the true faces of the Jojo brothers. Though not blood brothers, the boys had come to call themselves that after ending up it the care of a Kingpin of the Underground by the name of Mojo Jojo. Long dead, but his influence still controlled the wasteland through his three adopted sons.

"You knew. You knew what happened to us. You knew who we were that night, and played bluff! How could I not recognize you three? How could you not come sooner?" Buttercup's voice cracked with emotions she thought she lost at the age of six.

"Buttercup, what are you talk-" Bubbles and Blossom were confused. Completely, and utterly confused.

"Tell them! Tell the now!" She snapped, cutting her sister off. She saw the way Butch flinched at the raw anger in her voice.

"You know how hard it is to get out of the Underground Butters." His face betrayed him as it showed a softness anout him.

Butters? What right did he have to call her that? There was history here, and Bubbles was having an extremely hard time figuring it out.

Brick's voice thundered to her ears. "Calm down Buttercup! It took a while to find exactly where you were. You three were hidden, and hidden well. Your King made a look but don't touch ruoe for a reason. So you three couldn't leave, and so no one would speak of you. Why talk about a woman you can't have? Especially when they belong to the King."

Boomer mummbled in agreement, and Butch stepped a bit closer to the woman.

"Butters, I am sorry. Sorry it took so long. Sorry we had to act like assholes. It was ths only way."

Buttercup flung her head in defiance.

"Thought you three would've been dead by now."

Flinging her head once more to now meet Butch's eyes, she grounded out once more.

"Tell. Them. Now."

* * *

Update! yay! Im going to update Blood's Generation and Find Me this week. Please give more suggestions for Find Me. Details on that are in that story. See you next chapter!


	4. Dark Knights

Okay...so. Hi. Sorry for not updating, a lot has been happening. No excuses, I know. I am going to try to keep this story going, along with my other ones.

* * *

The way she grinded her teeth and clicked her tounge in irritation, sent Butch into a suffocating wave of nostalgia. The action replayed in his mind with an image of a six year old wavy haired ravenette who generally had a mischievous smile and bright eyes. Innocent. Brave.

"Tell. Them .Now." Her words honestly affected him in the worst of ways, but he was still wary. Why tell them anything? Why should he? Mojo is dead, John is dead. The two men that connected the six adults standing in this dark hallway were six feet under.

Butch saw the way Brick rolled his eyes slightly at the woman. Who was she to make demands when she owns her freedom to the very same men she is antagonizing?

Nevertheless, Butch complied.

"Our fathers had an agreement. You three would work for him in the underground for a set time, and in return you would be protected from HIM. Obviously, the plan didn't follow through. HIM threatened with execution, and your father did not want any blood spilt over your names. Apparently thought it would be against your late mother's wishes."

The two sisters mulled the information over, and Buttercup clipped shortly," Go on. Finish the story, _Butchy Boy_."

Butchy Boy. The awfully cheesy nickname she had given him when they met. He never thought she would remember it, or even say it again.

"We met Buttercup right after your father met with ours. Curious kids looking for fun with kids our own age instead of with soilders and sharpened knives ."

* * *

Three little boys sprinted past, kicking up dirt and pushing past broken bodies and pitful souls.

"Butch! Slow down!" Cried the smallest. Blue eyed, and blond. Cute and cheerful as most normal kids were, even in the pit of Hell they called the Underground. A large piece of land far from the Capital enclosed in large walls and guarded with gaint gates made of metal. A foreboding structure that told all who saw it what they were and what their pitful lives meant. Crowded and filled with sickness, older people watched on with lackluster eyes. Praying that they don't see those same three bodies lying in the street cold and lifeless.

"Hurry up! You two are so slow!" Butch called out. Tossing the words behind him and never looking back. "Don't you wanna know what they look like? Mojo said they were the same age."

"They're girls! Why do you care?!"

"I don't! I just wanna see."

Mojo, offhandedly gave the girls' names and appearances. Shouldn't be too hard to find them. There weren't that many kids their age in this area of the Underground. Mostly older women and men. Killers, most likely. But, somehow not dangerous.

That's when he saw her. Tucked away, and alone. Staring at nothing he could identify in the distance. Her hands scrunched up in a dirty yellow dress. Dust floured her hair. but Butch couldn't help but think that the girl was still cute. A type of cute that was different than a clean face and pretty clothes. He wondered where the other two sister were.

They met the girl everyday. They played and spoke of things normal six years olds shouldn't understand. The pain of loss, the nightmares. The three boys even taught the girl advanced self defense, something her father covered the basics on. She swore she would introduce them to her sisters, but it was too late. The day she set to be taken away, he and his brothers made a vow to her.

"The Jojo brothers will bring you back!."

* * *

Leaning against the wall nearest to him, Brick cracked a small smile. Ghostly and repressed, he gazed at his feet and his eyes slowly made the journey to Buttercup's face. They then jumped to her two sisters standing behind her. They lingered on Blossom's as he spoke.

"We were supposed to be like your "Dark Knights" as Mojo put it so fondly. He died five years ago, and keeping order has been...tiring. Nevertheless, we kept searching for you three. It was a promise we made to Buttercup, and an agreement our father's made."

Boomer nodded and with a joyous clap of his hands that didn't really make it to his expressive eyes, he spoke. "Welcome to the Grifter Corps." With that, he ended the conversation and swiftly made his way past the girls. The tense feeling in the room was starting to get to him, and though he was trained to react better in such situations, the personal aspect of it all crushed him.

"We will make sure you three don't die." Clapping a hand on Bubbles' shoulder as he glided past, he whispered, " I will make sure you see it. His downfall at our feet."

Bubbles mumbled faintly as she remembered his words from over a month ago. "The day of reckoning." She echoed. This time, those words sounded a more...obtainable.

* * *

It had been a few days since the sisters were back in the Underground. They had not left the safety of the the building they were in, but all agreed that they should. All three girls wanted to visit their parent's graves, and possible clean and decorate them. Real flowers were hard to come by on this land, but Blossom remembered how they would make fake ones to put on their mother's grave.

They knew where their mother was buried, and the Jojo brother's informed them that their father was buried right next to her. Blossom found comfort in that. All three girls cried the day, they were sent the letter that detailed their father's death months after it happened (unknown address and the letter got lost), and cried even harder when they realized that they didn't get any say in what happened to his body.

When Boomer told the sisters that the three of them sat at his bedside and made sure he was treated properly they were thanked profusely and Buttercup even shed a couple tears that she desperately tried to hide.

The Jojo brothers became like nephews to John Utonium. Close in bond, Brick remembered the way Boomer clasped John's hands as he faded away. The blond man always believed he reminded him the most of his blood father.

In those few days, the three women learned as much as they could about these "Dark Knights" of theirs.

Boomer opened up first. His birth father was a soilder who defected from the Empiral force and was put down for it by the order of the king when he was five. His father couldn't continue with the killing and purging HIM commanded of him. Boomer idly thought that his father would have been quite upset with the life his son lived now, but he was dead. He doesn't need to confront him anytime soon. Not in this life.

His mother ran after him when he reached for his father on the podium he stood on awaiting his fate. A field was to be his father's death place. Boomer swore he smelt the blood of a hundred men on that piece of land and wafting in the air. A stench he was yet not accustomed to. HIM decided his young mother was pretty enough to be in his bed, as he seems to do with many women. She refused, as she was deathly loyal to her husband. The King ordered her to be killed on the spot next to her husband she loved so much. She screamed his name once or twice. A deprerate sound, and the last time he could actually remember hearing his mother say his name.

Boomer watched this parents cry as he was held down by large hands. His arms bent at his back as he stared. Blue eyes wide and frighteningly somber as they looked into the identical blue eyes of his father and the hazel eyes of his mother.

" _The King must be in a poor mood today. To kill both of the boy's parents... He can't stay in the Capital. All orphans are sent to the Underground."_

 _"More like slaughter. Chopping off heads is pretty dated savagery. Sending this boy to that Hell,I guess is better than-"_

The words of the guard holding him down faded into nothing as the sounds around him blurred into a chaotic mess.

He remembered the teary sob he let out as death smothered their cries.

Boomer laughed quietly at how weak he felt in that moment.

 _Slaughter._ That became his favorite word.

Brick was the second one to tell his past. He never truly knew his parents. He only knew of this grandmother who treated him like he was the antichrist. Being born with bloody red eyes does that. He wouldn't say that she abused him, necessarily. She avoided him like the plauge though, and did not claim him as her own. He wasn't even allowed to leave his room, scraps of food was left at his door once a day. He was a lonely bastard child. A child born from her daughter and a well off _married_ nobleman that sat high on HIM's court. Brick's father was a _dog_ lapping at the King's feet as he learned later in life that his "father" did unspeakable things for that monster. He was the King's death dealer when the King was feeling a bit too lazy to do it himself. He was child born of aristocracy that he would never experience. Brick knew that his father rejected his mother when he found out she was pregnant.

That bubbling idiot didn't have to worry about silencing her as she disappeared after giving birth to him. Brick believes his grandmother had her sent to a mental institution. The shame too great for the "poor" woman.

The man who was supposedly his father, was killed by his wife when he was about eight years old. She found out about his late night rendezvous with a young servent in the house and offed him in the middle of a dinner. Apparently, it was something he made a habit out of and she seemed to think a public show of anger was the best thing to do in order to express her opposition.

Plunging a dessert fork into his eye, she was said to have been "emotionally unstable" at the beginning of the night. He died from blood loss as everyone in attendance gawked and gasped. No one knew how to wrap such an injury.

The story was buzzing thru the underground not even a week after it happened and Brick will admit the loud laughs that churned his stomach when he heard it. Hard belly moving laughs that made him look crazy to those who didn't know why. It still made him laugh at times. The thought of a middle aged woman grabbing a dessert fork of all things to stab her husband with. If she went with the carving knife, with enough force, he would have died instantly. In the back of his mind though, Brick believes the dessert fork was an intentional choice. Every now and again, he silently applauds the woman. Pleading insanity allowed her to avoid jail, and allowed for care in a nicer mental institution. The irony.

Butch was last. Born in the underground to two hired killers, he knew the truth of how this Hell worked. His parents were native to the land that was now Hell on Earth, their roots going as far back as centuries before the war that divided the Capital and it's governing lands. This land was his birth right, and his parents could not sit back as everything continued for the worst.

When HIM took power, his grandparents were apart of the rebellion, his parents were too. They were hired killers just to put food on the table, but were the best at what they did. He wanted to continue what his family helped create.

He grew up with the bloodshed. He could recall the times his parents would come home sweaty and bloody. His mother, a beautiful soul. would clean him up before she did heref despite her needed it more. His father would ruffle his hair and teach him everything he would need to defend himself, that included how to slice another's neck cleanly and how to effectively kill a person with what ever one may have on hand. His mother's personal favorite was the spoon, oh the things she could do to her enemy with a mere spoon.

He remembered the day he waited for them to come home, the day they fell cold at his feet as he opened the door. They were dying, injured beyond repair, and little four year old Butch could not stop the bleeding. It stained his hands and the warmth of its thickness held no comfort.

Mojo Jojo, the man they worked for, came to retrieve him the next day. Butch saw the man's glazed eyes and thought he was strong. Stronger than he was because only the heavens knew how much he cried that night. Huddled between his parents' corpses much like the dead babies in the dirty allies. Pressed against a breast that had no more milk to give as their mother's eyes soon lost focus.

At four years old, Butch Jansor learned how to hate.

All three men were affected by King Herald in some way, and each was taken in by Mojo Jojo. A man that fought dirty, but all in the name of rebellion and a world without a devil for a King.

On this death bed, Mojo croaked the importance of the Creed, and the value of Brotherhood.

""Long live the Resistance boys. Remember that, and me and John will be waiting for that bastard at the gates. We will be there waiting to send him to the Final Death that awaits him."

* * *

Hope you liked this chapter. Reviews are appreciated as it allows me to know your thoughts. In the next chapter, the girls truly ventyre out into the underground. What they see sickens them, and the sisters might snap. What will they do? Their mother never wanted them to kill, but their father knew what the Underground could do to the innocent. Who will kill first, and who will resist?


	5. Running Memories

New Chapter. What's good? I will be using the weekend to update a bit. Thanks for you guys' patience. This chapter is gonna get feture HIM and his family a bit.

* * *

She was running. Running fast and hard. As fast as her little legs would take her, she sprinted from the pain that hugged her heart. She was a small blur of black hair and pale clothing. A speck of nothing against an eerie darkness that consumed everything it touched. Dirt kicked up behind her in a cloud of black. She stumbled once and landed on an already scraped knee. The pain was something was used to. She ignored it. Springing up and righting herself with her hands, and clenched her hands to feel the dust between her fingers.

 _Why? Why did he do it?_ _Why did he?!_

It was screaming in her head. The man she saw die before her eyes seconds earlier screamed bloody murder and she couldn't shake it out of her brain as it played over and over. His poor dark eyes had pitful tears that pooled in the lines under his lower eyelashes. Weakness and pain. That's what she saw in those tears of his. His eyes though were strong. Resolved in a tight glare that stuck her as odd in the moment.

Buttercup watched frozen as those salty tears fell and mixed with the blood that was splattered on his cheeks. Splattered, more like smudged slowly as he fought to wipe it from his face.

What was the point? Why use the last bit if your life to cry and wipe blood from cheeks with already bloody hands?

The man's killer stood over him slighty. Back facing the girl, the shadow of a man let out a cackling laugh that was void of humor. It was a sad sound. Almost as if the murderer was regretful.

Buttercup didn't stick around to her the man mumble a hollow apology to the man at his feet.

 _Sorry. Sorry. I'm so sorry._

The man, that shadow, that _monster_ didn't know why he did it.

 _I'm so sorry_...

She was running, and she didn't look back. She couldn't, she wouldn't, but somehow the girl knew that feeling would get to her too. Buttercup knew that anger, that pain would force her hand to rip out other's heart. It would cause heads to roll, and revenge to be had.

This wasn't the first time she's seen a dead body, not the first time she has witnessed a murder. It was normal, everyday happenings. So why did the poor man with the dark eyes bother her so much?

 _Because his eyes held pain, held anger, held...forgiveness._

He forgave that man for what he had done to him.

Buttercup at the age of five decided she would never do that. She would as a young woman learn, that forgiveness wasn't for everyone.

* * *

The three sisters eased into life in the Underground again. It was a long process. but Bubbles felt confident enough to walk to the dingy market four blocks away from the building she know called home. She haggled with the best if them, and generally got the freshest the Underground could offer. Which honestly wasn't very "fresh" at all, but better than rotten.

Blossom knew where the banned books of the kingdom were sold for cheap. Books King HIM thought would cause disruption in his rule. Books that encouraged rebellion.

Buttercup could go where she pleased and takedown any figure that tried to pull her and her sisters into the alleyways. Easily making it known that they were not going down without a fight.

People seemed to be becoming more aware of the three new arrivals. Paths cleared for them, and some citizens even nodded in acknowledgment as the girls walked passed.

They wondered if it was due to their connection to the Corps, or their father's lingering reputation. Buttercup idly thought it was both.

Today was a quite day. At least it was supposed to be.

"What the hell do you mean?!" Brick roared. His skin slowly reddened, and he grabbed at his hair in frustration.

The slightly older looking guard took a slow step back, most likely in fear of his leader. Buttercup could hear the turmoil in his voice as the fiery redhead paced back and forth.

"Intel says HIM is on the move now. He is making war plans that go against your previous advisement with him months ago. He wants war with the Southern Lands, and he wants it soon. Roughly two weeks with an assassination of Great Duke Demtre. Close political partner of the reigning king of the Southern Lands."

The guard paused before continuing slowly. His face darkening as he growled out his next words.

"Intelligence also says that HIM may be coming into the Underground to seek extra forces. Forcibly if he has to, as it seems he is unwilling to sacrifice his best soldiers for the first battle."

Brick snarled harshly at that. How dare that spiteful king! How dare he use the people he outcasted to do his dirty work.

"Spread this. Warn the rest of the Underground and the bosses of each crime organization. If any of Hell's citizens joins HIM, they will be put down before the even reach the gates. They will die at the Jojo Brother's hands personally and face ridicule in City Center for all to see. No traitors are allowed within these walls."

The guard waited and turned his head in slight disagreement. "Sir, take time to think about this. Think about what you just said. That's not the way you handle things. Not with your own people."

Brick paused his pacing to look the guard in his darkening eyes.

"You don't think I know this?! Demitr, we are running out of fucking options! What the Hell are we to do? They people hate this king as much as we do, but for hecks sake some are desperate for an out. Some will do anything to leave this Hell hole."

The guard, Demitr squeezed his jaw and sighed in agreement. It was the truth. and that was the problem.

"Come to me again with this in two hour Demitr. I will have a proper solution when I speak to my brothers and the Counsil." Walking forward and clasping a firm hand on the other man's shoulder he continued to walk past the man. "Thank you Demitr, I know I'm not always right. Anger has a funny way of make me...irrational."vo

Buttercup moved from her spot in the hallway to stand in the threshold of the door of the room the two men were in. Knocking on the side paneling once, she made her presence known.

Demitr nodded in acknowledgment as Brick gave her a quick hello.

"Let me and my sister's in on this. Maybe we can be of assistance."

* * *

 _Four Days Later_ _at the King's Castle_

Time was passing grueling slow for our favorite king. Plans that were set in motion were still in the beginning stages, and Herald was feeling quite impatient.

Nothing was going the way he wanted it to, and he still had to deal with his harpy daughter not having a husband for the throne. It was beginning to tick the man off.

That woman he had the misfortune of calling his daughter was beginning to feel the pressure even more now as she watched the gray hairs that were once sprinkle here and there in her father's beard and head multiply. The wrinkles in his face were becoming more profound, especially when the man snarled. The man who was once admittedly strikingly handsome, was fading away leaving a disgruntled and angry man behind.

HIM needed action, he needed death. His assassination attempt on that pitful Duke was tossed out when the man left the Southern Lands to go West into allied land. HIM could not kill him there. He would lose the trust the West has given him and the power they hold in any war he threw his kingdom in.

As much as he hated it, he needed the West on side.

With no assassination attempt, there was no need for him to gather more troops.

"My lord, you asked to see me."

Ah, his wife. The poor woman. Scared, broken, and meek at this point in her life, she was nothing like the daughter she bore. Though they looked exactly a like, the woman had a much more keen sense of survival in the form of respect and fear of her husband.

"Priscilla. So nice to see you." HIM's voice came out in the mockful coo he was famous for. The same way he spoke to her as he courted her shortly for her family's money and land, and the same way he spoke to her on their wedding night. A tone that made the poor Priscilla sqirm and slighty wring her hands into the sides of her dress.

He eyes ghosted up to meet her husbands as he said his next words.

"Get control of your daughter. Find her a husband. I will not be on this throne in the next twenty years. I do not have that time. She needs to be with child for the next heir in the next ten years or else my bloodline will surely die out. That bastard daughter of mine is well protected, and no child she has will be able to rule. Don't make me have to start over."

The subtle nod to him killing her and their daughter did not go over her head. She believed he would do it. Oh, she just _knew_ he would.

Nodding her head once in understanding, she left when he dismissed her.

 _Who is going to marry her?_

* * *

Bubbles could not stop having these dreams. They were like glimpses of her past, and when she brought it up to her sister, they told her of the same happening to them. Each sister spent their nights remembering bits of their early life that they honestly shouldn't.

Things they knew they had hidden away in their minds to never surface again.

They were supposed to be too young to remember the day their mother died in her bed. They were not supposed to remember the exact way she smiled at them before she closed her eyes for the last time. Her teeth still white and pearly as she flashed them one more time. Her hair and skin pale, but still beautiful in an ethereal way.

They should not remember the few nights they caught their father slipping into their small home, his face sprinkled with little flecks of blood painting his face. His eyes regretful as he thumbed thru the money he had made. Enough to last them a couple of weeks.

Buttercup wasn't supposed to remember the man with the dark eyes and the harsh glare.

Blossom wasn't supposed to remember the way men looked at her as she followed her father and sister threw the crowds. She wasn't supposed to remember the names they called her, and the whispers.

 _"Those eyes..."_

Bubbles wasn't supposed to remember the first and only time she had ever killed another human being at five years old. Her father finding her and her sisters staring at the body of the teenaged boy who grabbed at her. Pulling her into the darkness to make a quick buck out of her. The knife she always carried with he glided smoothly against this throat, just the way her father taught her.

Her sister's should not remember how they helped her that night. Cutting into the young man with knives of their own with a precision little girls should not possess.

The three women weren't supposed to remember how...good it felt. How good it felt to protect themselves and deal with those who wished them harm.

Oh, she wasn't supposed to! Only because now, Bubbles wanted to feel it again.

 _"Slaughter the King."_

That didn't seem like such a bad idea now, and her sisters agreed.


	6. This Feeling, This Pain

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please enjoy the chapter. Hopefully, I can make it a bit longer this time. Thank you for all of the reviews, likes, and follows. I really appreciate it all. Sorry for the lack of updates on my other stories. I just feel like they suck more, and I can't get out of the writer's block with them. I was younger when I came up with the concepts. This story is a bit darker than those other few I have written, and I find this one much more enjoyable to write. I may come back to them this month though. Thanks for understanding.

* * *

Bubbles decided she was ready to see more of the Underground. She knew the Jojo Brothers, specifically Boomer, were doing their damnedest to keeping her and her sisters comfortable and protected. She understood that, and she appreciated it. Really she did. But that feeling. That pain she remembered from long ago ripped at her every time she stepped into the streets and took in the Hell that surrounded her. She remembered how it felt to protect herself, how to attack, how to kill. Her father never taught them how to kill. He would not go against their mother is such a way. No, the Utonium sisters taught themselves the trade in frenzied attacks and calculating movements.

Oh, how she hated the look in her and her sisters' eyes back then. No child should be so broken and cold. So dead. Bubbles believed her and her sisters were never very normal children. It was if a switch was turned on in them. A switch their father had in him that he just knew would flicker something horrid in his daughters. When Bubbles looked in the mirror in the mornings, she could see the reflection of a younger face. Swollen with youth and eyes wide, they were pale and nowhere near a bright as they are now. Despite the difference, Bubbles knew they were her's. Large eyes of a time she pushed to the back of her mind.

Walking slowly to the parlor she knew her sisters would be winding down at this time of the day, she reached the door and opened it and closed it with a soft click behind of her. Her sisters glanced up and greeted her as the door closed and Bubbles sat in the chair closest to her.

"Do you think we should visit mama and papa today? We only did so once since we've been here, maybe the brothers would like to come this time as well. To visit papa." She suggested. Voice light as if she was scared to wake a sleeping child that did not exist. Her sister's understood this. Bubbles was still coming to terms with what was recently unlocked in her brain. All three of them were. They killed before, and the way this poor excuse of a district worked, they will have to do it again. But truly, that wasn't the most unnerving part. What really troubled the girls was the fact that it did not bother them.

They knew they did not like it, but did not hate it. Instincts kicked in and muddled all thoughts other than _kill. Fight. Survive._

Blossom nodded and agreed. "Yes, I think that would be good."

The two looked over, waiting for the middle sister to answer. With a light wave in agreement, said sister grinned a grin the other two sisters hadn't seen a while. A reassuring thing she always did to ease tension. In this case, Bubble's tension.

"I agree as well, but maybe just us again. Those three are having their own troubles at the moment. They disagreed with our proposition to help them. Let them figure it out and let us look around at our old favorite places. That park with the tree swing, and the cove on the east. We could start there first. I remember those places well."

Bubbles warmed at that. She could remember those places as well. She could recount the time she flew off the swing so hard and far, their father had to run quite a distance in order to catch her in time. The wind in her face for a couple seconds and her heart dropping in her stomach, the feeling of their father's arm holding her tight.

 _"Don't worry Bubbles. Papa's got you."_

 _She tilted her head and threw it back with a laugh that racked through her little body. A bubbly laughter that fit her so well given her name. " Let's do that again! Again!"_

 _Buttercup tugging on John's pants leg and crying out, "I wanna do that too. Catch me too papa!" Blossom giggled in the shade of the tree._

She remembered the damp cove she and her sisters found one day when their father was working The view was amazing and the girls would pretend to be on the search for buried treasure and jewels bigger than their heads.

All of these happy times she could remember in this piss poor land, and yet she still remembers how her young eyes would look so cold and broken at times.

* * *

The "City Center" as it was called was filled with bodies. Nothing unusual. Nothing out of place.

Buttercup was now used to fighting through the crowds again, and she did it well. Making clear paths for her sisters, the middle sister felt waves of nostalgia as they neared the park they so fondly remembered. The swing was right where they left it and the little body swinging on it slowly showed that was still used.

The child was a small boy. His stature suggested he has around twelve or thirteen years old. He was a poor sight though as his clothing looked even worse than what was normal for the Underground. It looked as if he had been in those clothes for months, and hadn't eaten properly for just as long. The boy had wavy black hair that reminded Buttercup of her own. What was truly striking about the boy was his eyes though. She had seen pink and red eyes before, courtesy of Blossom and Brick respectively, but never a pale violet such as his. Truly unusual. Unusual, but familiar. It was as if she had seen those eyes in a book she had read before. One of the banned ones Blossom kept tucked between dust and old parchment.

His eyes held a power she could not place but she did not let it scare her.

The boy paused his slow swinging and stared at the three sisters. When he was seemingly done analyzing them, he carefully dismounted the swing and began to walk away.

From her side Bubbles stepped forward and called out to the boy. Probably guilty that he felt he needed to leave, even though they had done nothing to make him do so.

"Excuse me. You don't have to leave. You can stay and swing. We were just passing through. Please continue."

The boy stopped and turned to face the three again. With a small flicker of his lips, and eyes that at second look seemed just as broken as she knew her and her sister's used to be, he gave a small hum in disagreement.

" No miss. It is fine. I should not hinder you three. You must have come here for a reason, I can tell." He paused to take a look at the swing once more before he continued again. "You three need a moment with this place. Have a good day." He moved to leave again and Buttercup could not help her outburst.

"You're not originally from here, are you? You speak differently. Higher class, am I right? There is no judgment. Just an observation."

The boy gave her another flick of his lips. " Yes, miss. The Second Tier District."

Buttercup was shocked. No child of the Second Tier District was supposed to be here. Even if he was an orphan, someone would have taken him in. The citizens of the higher tiers of the kingdom did not just dump their children into the Underground. They were too valuable, too much to lose. That begged the question of what the heck his boy was doing standing in an overgrown park in the center of the Devil's arse!

Blossom spoke up from her other side of her and voice the question Buttercup had just asked herself.

He did not seem very scared to tell them what happened to his family. If anything he seemed calmer as the four sat in the tall grass. "My parents were put on trial for conspiracy against the King. Something about trying to band the District against his more damning laws. They also did not pay their taxes since they rose to power in our district. They were thrown in a cell and executed shortly after for no other reason. We had no extending family so I was sent here with the clothes on my back and all of my parent's assets seized."

"You have practically nothing to your name now." Buttercup grounded out. She was upset for the boy. He was mature and wiser than any other she knew of his age, and yet here he was wasting away. He could have been killed by now.

"Yes, miss."

Bubbles clapped her hands together, and gave the boy a small smile," Please call me Bubbles, these are my two sisters Buttercup and Blossom."

The boy seemed happy that he had actually made allies in this wasteland he was stranded in.

"My name is Esmond."

* * *

The sisters took the boy everywhere they went that day. They took the money they had to buy lunch for the four of them and buy Esmond new sets of clothing. Nothing fine and expensive of course, but definitely better than what he was used to for the past couple of months. Taking him to their home, he bathed and kept the girls' company. He was an extremely bright child, and he had knowledge Blossom admired greatly. The four spoke about anything and everything. Politics, Life, Fear, Happiness. He was a source of ease that the sisters unknowingly needed.

Closer to the evening, voices of the three original inhabitants of the building slowly got closer to the door of the parlor the four sat.

"I'm telling you. Him cannot continue until that brat of a daughter gets married. His assassination attempt went sour and he was no true allies at the moment. No one wants to fight his fight right now." Butch's voice came out clear.

Brick's voice followed," I know but it would still be foolish to hit now. He knows something is coming for him, whether it is us or Father Death, and it feels as if he is ready."

Boomer was the one who opened the door and at the sight of the Esmond sitting next to Bubbles, his faced turn quizzical.

Looking over his brother's shoulder when he did not make a move to enter the room, Butch gave an expected," Who the heck is that, and what is he doing here?"

Esmond made his introduction again and the sister's voiced their want to keep him under their care for a while. They didn't give an exact timeframe but it was understood that these sisters cared deeply for the boy. Be it the urge for a younger brother they never had, or maternal instincts taking over, it did not matter. Butch, Boomer, and Brick wouldn't have been able to say no to them in the first place.

It did not take long for the brothers to warm up to the boy either. Brick was fascinated with the boy's mind. He agreed to let him voice his options on the more "mature" conversations and meetings he and his brothers had with the other organizations. The boy made valid points and even gave information about the monarchy that was overlooked or previously unknown.

Butch and Boomer enjoyed teaching the boy everything they knew about survival. They were somewhat shocked to learn that the boy did know the basics of fighting, but were truly off guard by how inquisitive and sly the boy could be when needed. It was a mutual agreement that Esmond would be the perfect intelligence officer. Infiltration was something Esmond agreed he was comfortable with and so began tiring days of training and enjoyable nights of conversation and companionship. It would be hard with his rare eye color, but the boy was clever. Working his way around it wouldn't be too hard.

One night when the air was still and everyone was asleep, Esmond cried. It was silent, calm, and happy. He hadn't cried when his parents were taken away. He never cared much for them, as they had him out of duty of creating a successor for their name. His father he rarely saw and his mother was an absent figure most of the day as the boy was swamped with lessons and studying. He was treated fairly by house staff, but he still felt the absence.

He did not have any friends his age and was socially inept at times, not that you would be able to tell. Esmond did not cry when he was forced past gates he never thought he would see in his lifetime. No, Esmond cried when the moon was high in the sky and he was clean, full, and with people who actually understood him. People who cared about him and actually spoke to him.

Lord knows his parents rarely spoke to him, but if you were to ask them why they would say it was for the best. They wanted to see those usual violet eyes of his look on with emptiness. They wanted a perfect successor, but these people here just wanted him.

"Ezzy! It's time to wake up. I made your favorite today. Porridge with cream. I won't tell where I snagged the cream from, heaven knows it's hard to get here. I don't want you to go do anything crazy to get it. Maybe we can work in the garden today with Bubbles? She will possibly guilt trip us to do it anyway like how she did with Boomer. The poor sap. Don't tell him this but, the man is foolish for my dear sister. Absolutely wrapped around her pretty little finger."

Esmond pulled the cover from his face and gave Buttercup a smile that rivaled her own. Bright and warm unlike the one he had given her when they first met. He was finally happy.

Quickly changing his clothes and racing her to the kitchen, he gave the five people sitting at the table and quick greeting. He made sure to give Buttercup a hug in thanks for the meal and dug in.

Buttercup noticed that ever since Esmond joined their little "family", the feelings and pain that came with being back in the Underground eased. It seemed as if the boy made it a bit more bearable than usual.

He actually sparked something in her that she swore would never happen. The urge to create a family of her own. Bubbles and Blossom were the ones who spoke and giggled about little feet and cute little babies. Sure they were cute, but Buttercup didn't think she could actually care for a child of any age, much less push one out of her.

The thought of another human coming out of her made her blanch and silently commend her late mother for pushing out not one but three children within the span of two hours. Buttercup just believes her body was not meant for that, but Esmond made her rethink a couple of things. He was kind and she loved to cook for him. He was always so grateful for what they gave him, and she never gave much thought when she would prepare a second helping for whatever she made just for him. His body gaining weight and his face slowly looking less hollow.

They had the strongest connection and maybe it was because they were so much alike.

Yes, he had smarts like Blossom and Brick, he was caring and sweet like Bubbles and Boomer at times, but she understood all of him. She knew his emotions and knew he cried at times when the stars where bright. She could never hear him, but she knew those tears were there. She felt it everytime he smiled and every time he hugged her. His grip on her stronger than when he would hug the rest.

When they first met, it was her eyes he bore into first. Searching for something she could not put into words. All she could say though were that they were one and the same. Strong, but weak. Intact but broken. Mischievous and ready to protect.

"Butters. Butterc-, Buttercup! You in there?"

Suddenly pulling herself out of her thoughts, Buttercup looked up at Butch sheepishly.

"Sorry, Butchy boy. Lost in thought." Butch nodded and sat in front of her. Sinking into the cushion as he did so.

"Wanna talk about it?" He questioned lightly. He knew how she was with sharing her thoughts and emotions, so he did not expect much of a reply.

"Do you think I would be a good mother?" That was not what he thought she would say. It showed on his face too when his eyebrows rose and mouth dropped open a bit. At the expectant look on her face, he sputtered to reply.

"You would be amazing! Butters, I see the way you care for Esmond, you are practically his guardian. His precious older sister. Hell, his mother! He's told me about how much he cared about all of us, but the way his eyes shined when he spoke about you was extraordinary. Even he thinks you would be an amazing mother."

Buttercup could not hold back the smile that made it's way to her lips. Tilting her head to the side in a giddy way she never seemed to capable of she asked," How so?"

Butch rubbed his neck in slight embarrassment of what he was about to say. He could just lie or tell her half of the conversation that was had, but knew he would not be able to bring himself to do it.

"We were talking about you girls and he began to open up more. He practically gushed about how you help him do this, cook him that, how you two talk for hours every day. I swear the boy was trying to get me jealous. I threw in a comment about how I wish we were like that more sometimes. Just joking, but he took it pretty seriously. He glared at me pretty harshly and said that if I manned up, he would bet on having a little brother or sister in the next four years. That made me think that he already sees you as his mom, and a good one at that."

Cue the furious blush that spread like Hellfire on Buttercup's cheeks.

"He said that?" Small voiced and questioning, Buttercup in a rare show of embarrassment let her hair fall around her face. The jealous part flying right over her head.

Reaching forward to clasp a strong hand on the young woman's shoulder, he gave her the very same smile he flashed her the day they met so many years ago.

"Yeah, and he meant every damn word." Jade and emerald met and Buttercup felt her stomach lift and fall. What was happening to her?

* * *

The news spread like wildfire and Brick knew that time was of the essence. Princess had a proposal, and the odds of her rejecting it are low. It was finally happening. If this marriage actually happened, there would a serious shift in power. Princess would become the new Queen. Though not as horrible as her father, she would not advantageous for the Resistance. Him would still be alive and would most likely sow his seeds into the poor fellow who became his son-in-law.

Who the Hell is this guy? Who wants the throne?

Brick sat in his study hands folded and eyes staring at the letter that was just sent. It relayed all of the information Brick already knew, but for some reason seeing it written out in ink made the pressure even greater.

"Strike now while they court. Kill the King and bring the Resistance past the walls before the wedding." A voice said smartly.

The sound of the young boy startled him as he was pretty focused on the paper in front of him. Esmond was sneaky. Quiet and slippery as he moved through the building that was now his home.

"Dammit Es! Don't do that."

The boy walked towards his desk and leaned forward. Smirking in a way that reminded him of his green-eyed brother so much that it was almost frightening. Those pale purple eyes of his brightened in glee.

"Sorry Brick. I did not intend to almost kill you with fright." Laughing lightly, the boy loved to tease everyone that weren't the Utonium sisters. Even so, he would participate in light friendly jabs at Bubbles and Blossom with Buttercup. Brick could just imagine it being Buttercup or Butch standing in Esmond's place with that damn smirk on their face.

"You have been spending too much time with Butch." Brick grumbled. He did not mention Buttercup's influence because he felt as if the boy already knew. He also didn't want to be on the receiving end of the boy's infamous glare.

With a quick shrug of his shoulders, Esmond agreed. "Probably."

"Anyway. I agree. We probably should move forth before the wedding. We have the Southern and West lands on our side now. Warning them about HIM's attempt at fanning the flames of war was useful." HIM thinks the West was still on his side, and he could keep thinking so for all Brick cared.

"The only problem is who will rule. Will we attempt to disband HIM's Council and form a new one, or will get rid of all of them? If so, who will take their place. My brothers and I will stay and govern this land, so that takes us out of the equation."

"Shouldn't the Founding Family continue the Reign?"

Brick took that into consideration already. The Original Family was that of which King Herald overthrew in the bloodiest war ever seen on these lands. He had already had political power before he married Pricssila Morebucks. Marriage into her family gave him the extra resources and enough political power to wage war.

The Original Family was who it was believed should be allowed to rule, but no one knew if the Original Family was still alive. If they were, they would have changed their names and blended into civilian life. They could have died off or forgotten their rightful place. It had been over forty years since HIM's takeover, and he had decimated two-thirds of the ruling family in execution. He "spared" the rest. The rebellion started and the walls were put up, and now here they are.

"I am surprised you know of them. People in the higher tiers of the Kingdom really don't speak of them. Apparently, they are all six feet under now." As he said this, Esmond's eyes grew dark. That was something they only ever did when reminded of the past, and this got Brick thoroughly confused.

"As much as I disliked my parent's way of treating me, I could never go a day forgetting about _who_ they were. Six feet under or not." Tilting his head back and clenching his jaw tight, Esmond turned away and walked slowly to the door of the study room.

"I never told you all my last name, did I?"

* * *

This is the longest chapter I have ever written. Paragraphs compared to other stories out there, but this was about ten and a half pages of writing. Over 4k words too. Hope you enjoy this chapter. I had to introduce Esmond in this chapter, because he is super important. You can most likely figure out why. He is a fun character, but if he thought he was broken before, just wait young one. Let's just say that he is not as good at controlling his as much as he thinks. This chapter was pretty light and fluffy, but in the next chapter, there will be violence. See you next chapter!


	7. Past Comes Forth

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Thank you for the reviews I'm loving that you guys are loving this! Esmond is a deep character, and most of the focus is on him this chapter. Thank you for reading! Italics in this chapter will mean emphasis, italics with quotation marks is thoughts, and/or eluding to the past. If it's confusing, just ask me and I will clarify it for you.

* * *

~About seven months ago

All he saw was black. Black, dark, evil. That is what their faces looked like to him. The guards that invaded his home had faces of darkness. Nothing told them apart. If he was a little smaller, a little less brave, a little less than everything that made him "Esmond", he would have backed away in fear of the guards with no faces. He would have looked into eyes that weren't there and scream an ear-splitting scream that bubbled from his throat at the pure Hellfire that ran through his veins when those men, those _things_ pulled him away with nearly arm breaking force. This is his home. His world, that they are taking from him, and he vowed to return the favor in due time.

The guards that held him so roughly did not seem to like the fact that the young boy in their grasp refused to struggle. They did not like the look in his eyes, the far-away look of a child no longer present within the world. They wanted the boy to beg, plead with them as his parents did. The two who thought themselves as so superior and divine. He would not grant them this though, as he would not break the way they did.

"What? Does this child not care for his life? At least that of his mother's?" Yes, they wanted him to beg, but begging was beneath him. _They_ were beneath him, _all_ of them.

He kept still as they jeered at him, he kept quiet as their large hands came down on him in a furious rage they did not even understand and starved him all the way to those damned walls of the underground. When the past comes forth, those men will regret attempting to disgrace him. His name would not be spoiled by their dirty lips until they trembled in pain and fear. Blood dripping from those lips as they heaved their last. The name of their king a whisper as Esmond lowered his sword onto their necks himself.

They will cry out the name of their true king.

* * *

"Your last name?" Brick questioned. Rolling it around in his head, he realized that it was true. He did not know the last name of the boy before him.

"Yes, as you are now Jojo. Or would you rather Kingsly?"

"Now is not the time to be smart Es. You know something, or rather you _are_ something."

"No need to be so tense, I am human." Esmond could not help the small quip. Brick just made it too easy to pick on him sometimes.

Rolling his eyes light heartily as the boy despite the circumstances Brick continued," That I don't doubt, but what are you saying? Do you hold an important last name?"

Walking through the threshold for the study room and holding Brick's gaze for a few seconds, Esmond gave no answer to his question.

"I wonder what Buttercup is doing?" Esmond threw over his shoulder. Intentionally ending the conversation with a confused Jojo.

Walking briskly away from the room Esmond let his mind drift to the past. Letting his head fall back in a lazy sort of way, he remembered the scream of that woman who broke. His "mother", she was hardly so.

 _"Do not break boy! You will bring shame to us, you and those cursed eyes in your head."_

That was was the last thing she told him, one of the only things she ever told him. She who did not have his violet eyes. Her brown eyes darkened in desperation and anger. Something he never knew the woman capable of, as she sat above others with an air that lived long ago. Royal, but not royal enough. Diluted intelligence and blood that did not spark in her brain or veins.

She called his eyes cursed, the eyes of her fallen family name. She took her husband's name upon marriage but would sigh out the name she lost in the darkness of her chambers.

Maybe his eyes were cursed, or maybe she just damned him for having the eyes she wanted so badly. The eyes that would be evidence enough to take back the land that belonged to _her._

Chuckling just a bit, Esmond whispered out to a woman long dead, "Land that belongs to me, a name that belongs to me."

Reaching the parlor he knew he would find Buttercup, he could hear a somewhat familiar voice inside of the room along with the woman he was looking for.

"So this Ace guy is willing to marry Princess? I heard he was a bastard child of the Lord of the Ganglands. He stirred up trouble too with his posse for crooks. Pillaging and raping. He would thrive here in the Underground." Buttercup grumbled lowly.

The voice Esmond now recognized as a joint member of the Corps he would see meandering about laughed a laugh that Esmond swore was over-compensating and annoying. "Yeah, he's something. Guess he doesn't care too much about looks. She would have to be at least half as beautiful as you for me to resign myself to such a life. But, then again you hold a certain type of pretty that is practically extinct. Real, Wild, Daring."

This man was one Esmond did not care for. He was not an official member of their cause. Just the son of an "organization" leader. They were called organizations but were merely groups of killers and informants willing to do almost anything for money. They were never loyal for too long as they had their own agenda, but apparently, this man favored Buttercup enough to give her the newest information he got ahold of before anyone else.

"That Princess is like a dying troll compared to you, and I hear that she..."

Esmond could feel his eye twitch once or twice. Small, unnoticeable, but definitely there.

 _"Is this fool...flirting?!"_

Before he could open the door and intervene, it flew open and the face of the offending member greeted him. Esmond must have missed the last of their conversation in his admittedly uncontrollable twitching.

"Mister Esmond." The man greeted, his face stoic as if he wasn't just trying to woo his...mother? Sister? Well, whatever Buttercup was to him.

Buttercup reached for the boy and greeted him with a quick hug. In the moment of enjoying the warmth Buttercup provided in the cold draft he stood in, he almost forgot his dislike for the man now walking down the hall. _Almost._

"How are you today Es? I haven't seen you for the day." Looking down at the boy, she idly thought about how tall he would become. In the past two or so months, he seemed to have had a growth spurt. It would make sense as he reaching that age. thirteen or so.

"I am well." Smiling up at her, he gave no indication of his ire from earlier.

"Say,Es. When is your birthday? We need to make sure we celebrate it." Buttercup tilted her head to lay on the door frame and smiled softly. "My sisters and I would spend three days doing what one of us wanted to do on each. On our actual birthday, we would pray to our parents for another year together."

"My birthday? I've never celebrated it myself actually. Servants in the house would wish me a blessed year, but my parents did not acknowledge it. That woman, my mother would stare at my eyes for a brief moment but then leave me to my self."

This actually took a stab at Buttercup's heart. How could his parents be so cruel?

"Well, that won't happen any longer. We will celebrate you and your day."

The smile that spread on his face was small but true.

"Thank you." Looking up at her once more, he stepped into the parlor as she backed up and sat in his favorite seat. The darkness from earlier came back into his eyes as he asked Buttercup," Can I tell you who I am?"

 _Can I tell you who I am?_

 _Who I am?_

 _I am..._

* * *

Blossom knew she had seen those violet eyes before. She should have recognized their unique coloring the second she saw them, but either way, the truth was out. It wasn't as is Esmond hid it though. He never told a lie. He never said he was someone he was not, but he... How? They were gone, died. Everyone knew that. The Founding Family. The Original Family. The Vanto Family. The proud clan that ruled lands that spanned so far and wide, it was as if they heaven's favor no matter their actions. Esmond was the last. A singular Vanto by blood and a Forkson by birth. His mother's parents were slaughtered in their sleep, but she was sparred with the threat of death if she ever claimed her last name again. A scared girl who was told stories to of grandeur and taught to hold her head high. Her dirty brown eyes gleaming in the night as her head filled with dreams of the royal life she was robbed of. The Forkson family was affluent enough. Powerful, and a good foot in the door to the overthrowing of a devil.

Esmond told them everything. He told them of the Vanto family. He told them of his plans. He let them into his mind. She saw the way he stared at Buttercup as he did. Ghosts of fear on his young face, it was as if he feared what her sister would think. The red-haired sister connected eyes with her youngest sister and they both turned to look at Buttercup. Watching her, analyzing her reactions. They jumped in unison as their sister lunged for the boy. The Jojo brothers looking just a quizzical through it all. Trapping him in a seemingly bone-crushing hug. What truly shocked them was the shuddering of her shoulders and the tiny hiccups the left her lips. By the wideness of Esmond's eyes, he too was caught off guard.

"I will not allow you to do that Es. You cannot meet with HIM. Whether we win or not, as long as he is alive and has the following he does, you will die. Would you really do that to me?"

In all her life Blossom had never seen her sister like this. So emotional, so open, so caring. So...weak. This boy makes her solid sister weak like a mother's love for her child does. A softness Buttercup never had for anyone.

Esmond lifted his arms to wrap around the woman and laid his head against her and with a muffled voice that ghosted through the room stated his stance despite his guardian's refusal, "He will die by my sword...We will slaughter them all."

Peeling away from her he stood a bit straighter, "I have to do this." Turning to the Jojo brothers with a look that seemed more mature than normal he nodded and made his way out of the room. "It is time for the war HIM wanted so badly."

Following the boy out of the room, Boomer caught eyes with Bubbles. The fear in her eyes caused his own to crinkle and then become firm. Bubbles looked down and with a sigh lifted it again. In the light voice he loved so much she asked him, " Shit's about to hit the ceiling. Isn't it."

Boomer chuckled through Blossom small gasp of "Language Bubbles" and Buttercup's watery laugh as she wiped her eyes of tears that Esmond had already dried before he walked off.

Yes, shit was about to hit the ceiling. To be honest, Boomer was a little excited. Slaughter was his favorite word after all, and the last Vanto promised it. Revenge never felt closer as he and brothers began operations.

* * *

The plan was pretty simple. Infiltrate the wedding, with their allies from the other lands. Have bows and arrows on the perimeter, launch for King HIM during the ceremony after the guards are taken down, kill Ace if needed, make Princess and the Queen swear loyalty before sending them off, kill them if they oppose. Now the Corps had actual lands backing them, success was greater. HIM made the mistake of trying to wage another overthrown of another kingdom he had no real allies now. In his old age, his suave charm is not as effective. His popularity is no longer what it was, and the districts are tired of bending it his will. The walls will fall and a total reconstruction is on Esmond's too do list. He had seen what the Underground thrived on, and the lack economic stability was the main cause. The good thing was that the Underground provided a lot of skilled men to fight with. With the true King to take the throne, Brick hoped stability would be fast.

"So are you guys going to let us help?" Bubbles quipped. Hands on her hips and eyes narrowed, she looked like "No" would send her into a frenzy.

Why would they say no? All three females were trained by the best there ever was, their father. They had already seen their share of bloodshed. Each had taken part in taking someone's life before. As morbid as it seemed, each sister knew they were capable of doing it again. It was as if something in them assured it. An instinct, a power, a voice saying, _"Do it. Nice and slow. Slice upwards. Cut deep. Shoot the arrow straight."_

"Yes, but nothing extreme. You might get hurt, and if any of you die..." Butch answered. Looking away from Bubble's face towards the end with the thought of a dying Buttercup in his arms. Her throat sliced and blood coming out faster than he could cover with a slippery hand slick with _her_ blood as he rocks her back and forth. His voice shivering and tears building up in the corners of his eyes before they fall slowly down his cheeks only to land on hers as he whispered things he never got to tell her. Like how much he loved the way she tilted her head to the side when excited, the way her voice cracked when embarrassed, how he thought she was an Angle in this Hell he lived in, and how he fell-

"Butch?" Her voice pulled him out of that awful thought, and he looked into blue eyes that bled into green the longer he looked into them.

"I'm sorry, where is Buttercup?" He stood from his seat beside Boomer and watched as Esmond stood to follow. Whether it was to go see her as well, he did not care. Butch just knew that _he_ needed to see her.

"She was in our room last. Said she was going to "ponder the universe and such". I thought that was more of Blossom or me thing, but we left her to herself. Especially after her...actions earlier this week."

Blossom spoke up from beside her sister, "I think her emotions are scaring her." Looking to Esmond she continued, "She is worried about you. We all are, but I think you understand where I am getting at."

Making their way to her room, they were silent. Each male thinking about Buttercup and what was happening. What if one of them really did die? What if she dies?

 _"What if I die?"_

* * *

Ok so this chapter is shorter, but I will hopefully update soon. If you have anything that you would like to see happen, tell me. I will consider it. No promises, but you guys are the readers. I want you guys to enjoy the story. I will try to add more romance in the next chapter. This was an Esmond chapter and of course, he will be expounded on further. Any questions you have on the characters, I can answer. Buttercup will be more like the classic one soon. She is experiencing maternal feelings and a softness she never had before. Esmond cares more for her than he did his own mother. Thank you for reading!


	8. In Her Head

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Sorry for the late update. Hope you guys like this chapter.

Buttercup found herself in front of a dusty window. Looking down at the broken street and wandering bodies, the thought of this Hell becoming wonderful again struck her.

What if there were no more dying children littering the street corners? What if the metallic tang of blood no longer stung her nose with its foul smell when she breathed?

Letting her head lean on the corner of the window pane, she glided her finger across the glass. The dirt collected on the tip of her finger and she couldn't pull herself to wipe it off immediately. Instead, she rolled it between the pointer finger and her thumb before it crumbled off her fingers and drifted to the window still.

This dust as silly as she seemed it to be, made her think of her mother. Her mother who always laughed when her green eyed daughter played in the dirt. Making pretty castles out of something so...ugly.

Sarah Utonium. She died when her and her sisters were young. So young, Buttercup wondered if she even truly remembered her. Were those emerald green eyes of the woman she called mother really green? Were they a mirror of her own eyes? Or were they actually a soft blue like Bubbles and their father?

Buttercup wondered if her mother ever felt this feeling she had been experiencing lately. This warmth of seeing a child happy, joyous to be near people who cared. Did her mother ever want to hug her senseless? Did Sarah ever feel warm when she looked at her daughters?

Buttercup strongly believed that yes, yes she did. The curves of her lips went up in a small smile. Her eyes closing as she did so.

"I'm becoming soft, aren't I?"

Turning her head to the figures in the doorway she laughed lightly.

Butch stepped forward and laughed lowly-awkwardly at being caught.

Esmond stood behind him and wondered aloud.

"How did you know we were here?"

Butch looked back at the young boy and scoffed.

"She can hear everything. No matter how well you think you can sneak up in her, she can hear you coming a mile away."

Buttercup turned fully to her "guests" and with mirth give a haughty laugh.

"You flatter me Butch."

After a couple minutes of casual conversation between the three of them, Esmond decided to move on towards more serious topics. Topics such as the revolt and his planned assassination of the King of "Hell" Herald.

"We've told you guys time and time again that we are willing to help with anything you may need. Me and my sister just want to help make a difference here."

As much as the two males before her wanted to allow it, their feelings were getting in the way.

Butch didn't want to see the woman he loved anywhere near that demon again, and Esmond shuttered at the thought of his...older sister, mother, important figure getting hurt.

"We did agree to involve you three, so yes. You have one of us near for protection though."

Buttercup nodded slowly.

The wedding was in less than a week's time. The trap had been set, and now all there was left to do was wait, and waiting was hard. So very hard. Especially for the Jojo brothers.

Practically a decade and a half of scheming, eaiting, plotting, and invisioning King HIM's head rolling could take much out of a person, but they were ready.

It was only a matter of time now.

Princess couldn't wait. She was finally getting her wedding she had dreamt about for so long. She could finally become queen and hopefully make her father proud. In the back of her mind though, she knew it would be difficult. He would never be proud of anything she did.

Her father only ever looked at her in contempt. Hatred was laced into the sugary words he would say and she only wished to get away from him most times.

A honeymoon outside of the kingdom would be the only possible way to escape him, even just for a little while.

She wanted to do what her sister did and take her mother away from this man that never loved either of them.

Most people make the mistake of believing Princess enjoyed her life. They believed she strove to be "daddy's little girl", but that was just her trying to survive. If being rude got results then fine. Obviously being timid like her mother would get her nowhere.

Though she held negative views of her mother at times, she loved her. A silent woman who cowered at sharing a bed with her husband, but became animated and vibrant when she would read her daughter stories of knights in shining armor, beautiful stories of love and courtship.

Sometimes, even as a child, Princess wondered how her mother could read such things without pain. How could she describe love and happiness without experiencing it?

Princess would be better than that.


	9. The Beginning of an End

Ah, hi? Sorry for typos in advanced. School got to me, so I had to put everything on the back burner. I apologize for that.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but an imaginary puppy.( If it's imaginary, do I really own it?)

The Jojo's small group of trusted allies included Esmond, The Utonium sisters, and a few of the Jojo brother's most efficient and experienced trackers, intelligence, and assassins.

They rode out at sundown. Their trail lost to the winds that decided to bombard them suddenly without warning. The weather chose to be fickle and rude.

Buttercup found herself cursing it all lowly to herself. Empty threats towards something that could not be harmed. The young woman felt her nose flare and her mouth twitching in annoyance.

As that cursed wind flung her hair about, Buttercup seriously contemplated taking the extremely sharp dagger that hid upon her thigh under her tattered cloak, and cutting her locks off with a swift flick of her wrist.

She would watch as it fell in a heap on the forest floor with a sick satisfaction that she won. That she tamed the beast that was her hair.

With a deep sigh, Buttercup shook her head at the concept. She truly wanted to go through with it, but her father always liked it long.

Buttercup's back length wavy black locks reminded their father of his mother. An unruly woman whose black hair was said to be as wild as her temperament as her unusual blue, almost purple eyes gleamed with mischievous intent.

John Utonium only remembered those few things of his mother before she passed prematurely. His father, he remembered would always tell his mother how beautiful she was. How graceful she was despite her calloused palms and chipped nails.

"She was a rebel. A true part of the resistance, my mother always fought for the greater good. At least she was when she wasn't brawling an taverns due to her loose lips and lack of tact. Or caring for me, which was often. Fiesty, like you my dear daughter. " Buttercup remembered her father saying often.

Smiling as he recounted, John decided that it was the memory of his mother that kept him hopeful in the Underground.

It was her death during one of HIM's raids that finally pushed him. Her death, he believed, caused him to grow cold. It allowed him to kill, and made him dammed good at it.

The young Utonium boy had lost his father less than a month prior to losing his mother. A man tall and lean, whose dark brown hair and deep maroon eyes lit up in a sort of boyish innocence around his dear wife. A man who died slowly, painfully. Bedridden by the same disease that would blow out the candles of his son's life decades later.

Buttercup heard much of her grandfather as well. She knew he was like Blossom in some ways. Calm and collected when needed to be. A leader, a person with so much charm, that he could never be blamed for anything. Even if he truly did commit the crime. Like Bubbles, he would get giddy at times. Smiling and soft-spoken with his wife and son. John described the man as a "man so royal in air, but unexpectedly silly."

As John grew sicker and sicker, he confessed that within the face of each person he has ever murdered, beaten, and blackmailed, he sees the face of his own mother's murderer. A man, stone faced and burly. Lifeless eyes, grey or blue in color, he could not tell. The man was a giant compared to the six year old John Utonium.

As he watched his mother's body crumble, her face serene, but bloodied. She managed to take that man down with her, the broken spear she grasped from beneath her found its way into the meaty man's chest. A lasting smirk on her lips that would be mimicked by her green eyed granddaughter played in her lips.

John felt something in him break.

This shattering of a childhood, made him stab just a bit harder, slice a bit deeper, and cry just a bit longer when the deed was done.

Squinting through the wind she manged to keep her horse on track with the rest of the group until they stopped to make camp. The weather and the need for rest became too great.

Jumping carefully off her horse, she helped her sisters tie the dark brown horse they had ridden on together and started to help the rest of the group build the temporary camp they were to call home for the night.

As the fire crackled into the night, Buttercup wondered where she would be in one, two months time. Sitting across from the young king who had his head deep into books and maps, she drew idly in the forest ground. The questions started to flood her mind.

Would war be over soon? Would they be successful? Would her Es make it? Would he be a good King? What if-

The snapping of a tree branch beside her brought her back into focus.

"Are you ok Butters? You've been pretty out of it for the past couple of hours. Is something the matter?" Blossom questioned as she sat beside her sister.

Sitting on the other side of the brunette was Bubbles. Her face cast with just as much concern as her pink eyed sister. Leaning her head on Buttercup's shoulder softly, she sighed.

"Blossom is right. You can tell us if something is on your mind. If you do not want to, we respect that, but just know that we are cornered."

Buttercup smiled lightly at this. Eyes still trained to the ground at her little drawing of a castle in the ground. She whispered.

"Live the life you girls want to live. Live it well, and be sure. We will all be watching, cheering, and protecting you three."

Her sisters shifted in recognition of her words.

"Papa's last letter before we saw him." Blossom remembered his shakily written script on yellowed parchment. The black ink glossy and fresh in her mind.

Bubble's head slipped further down into her sister's lap. Buttercup played her blond locks as she did. Smoothing down her strands.

"We do this for them, for us. For everyone wronged by that damned bastard. Damn him to Hell and back. The old bastard will soon croke with my heel up his arse." The blond declared. Her voice a bit muffled as her head sat against her sister's clothing.

Glancing at each other and trying to hold in their laughter, Bubble's sisters chastised lightly and jokingly, "Language Bubbles."

Ok, this was a quick 1k chapter just to change the setting. To those of you who have stuck around with me, I thank you so much. I love the feedback. A character from the past is coming. If you guess, it most likely will be right. If anyone wants to guess, be my guest! :)


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